I will see that everything is properly done.

We will bury her to-morrow." As a man walks in a dreadful dream, Sir Jasper arose, quitted the room, mounted his horse, and rode away.
One dark, menacing glance Zara shot after him; then she sat stonily down by her dead.

All that night, all next day, Zara kept her post, neither eating, nor drinking, nor sleeping.

Dry and tearless, the burning black eyes fixed themselves on the dead face, and never left it.
When they put the dead woman in the rude board coffin, she offered no resistance.

Calmly she watched them screw the lid down--calmly she saw them raise it on their shoulders and bear it away.